Based on Luke 16. 19-31. Have you ever met someone who was doing something not because they cared about it, but because of how it would benefit them? I’m not so much talking about the world of work here as the world of relationships. Have you ever come across someone who was friends with someone else because they had a great house with a pool or because they had contacts which would benefit them. In the world of films I’m thinking of Mother Gothel in Tangled who doesn’t care about Rapunzel, who she has kidnapped and locked in a tower, but only pretends to care because she needs the magic of her hair to keep her youth. So she pretends to be a loving caring mother so that this girl will continue to provide her with eternal youth. There’s something which pulls at us about these people isn’t there, the mother Gothels of the world, a twisting inside us. It doesn’t seem right that they get these things, they’re in it for all the wrong reasons. They don’t care about the thing, they care about what they’ll gain. And that grates with us, it upsets us, it feels all wrong. Our parable in today’s Gospel reading is about one of these people. Now he’s not the villain you might expect. He’s wealthy, as noted by his resplendent clothing, the fine linen and the purple cloth. Purple being the most expensive and rare of the dyes in the ancient world. He’s so wealthy that these fine linens and purple robes are his usual garb rather than kept for special occasions. He’s not being extravagant or showy, he’s simply living according to his means, as is expected of him in that society. And outside his gate, sits a poor beggar, the only character in Jesus’ parables to be given a name: Lazarus. No relation to the man Jesus raised from the dead, it’s just a common name at this time, like calling the character Joe or Bob. And the rich man doesn’t do anything about Lazarus, doesn’t seek to help him, because this is how the world works, there are rich and there are poor, that’s just how it is. And when the time comes they both die, Lazarus is taken by angels to Abraham’s breast, and the rich man also dies and is buried, a reminder that he is well liked and respected by his community. So far, so ordinary. From a worldly perspective there’s nothing amiss, the rich man is neutral, even good, but here’s the twist. The rich man had assumed this order, he the privileged one, others beneath him, would just continue forever, even in death, but has a rather rude awakening as he finds himself in Hades, staring up at Lazarus who has received what he assumed was reserved for the rich like himself. And it’s here his true colours start to show. Up until now he’s been a fairly neutral character by the standards of the day, but now the picture sours. He demands that Lazarus be sent to him to quench his thirst, he demands that Lazarus be sent to his family to warn them. Even when faced with this reversal he continues to treat Lazarus as inferior to him, as a slave. It’s Lazarus who should do these things for him. And although his pleading for his family may seem unselfish, a closer look reveals what is going on. His hopes for them isn’t that they reform and amend their ways, it’s that they avoid the torment he has ended up with. It’s not about changed lives, it’s about avoiding the consequences. It reveals an undertone that if he’d known this was coming, he’d have worked to avoid it. The fault doesn’t lie with him, but with God. He's reminded that they have Moses and the prophets, they have the Scriptures, just as he did, but that won’t be enough declares the rich man. Send them some extra sign, some extra warning. But what we have in this story isn’t a man who feels remorse, a man who has repented of his ways, we have a man who regrets the consequences of his actions, of his failure to heed Scripture, to care for others, to turn to God before it was too late. And even now he is scheming and bargaining to get what he feels he is owed. We may feel pity for this man, perhaps sorrow, perhaps some contempt. But this isn’t a fiction to watch on unaffected, like the prophet Nathan speaking to King David, Jesus turns to the Pharisees to whom he is telling this tale, turns to each of us who use religion as the means to an end and says ‘you are the man’. Is the primary aim, the primary goal, the primary longing of our faith about knowing God, about following him, about being changed day by day into the image of Jesus? Is it about producing the fruit of a changed life, a life directed to God? Or is it less about repentance and more about avoiding the consequences of our actions? Is what we want from God changed lives and changed hearts, or is it to live as we always have and avoid the negative results? That’s at the heart of this parable, not about the scales of justice being balanced so that the wealthy regardless of actions are punished for their wealth and the poor, regardless of their actions are blessed. It’s about our standing before God, the place of our hearts, the place we put God in our list of priorities. For this man he assumed his wealth would get him all that he needed, that he owed nothing to no-one. He treated his wealth as his highest good, as the world around him encouraged him to do, to enjoy the fruits of his wealth. And yet wealth isn’t the highest good, rather it is to be used to do good. With God as the highest good in our lives we are free to see wealth as what it is, a means to an end, whether for selfish gain or for the service of others. No doubt the man justified his lack of care for the beggar at his gate. This is just how the world is, I have wealth, he is poor, that’s just the way it goes. We too justify our failure to act on behalf of those in need; they’re lazy, they’re scroungers, they’re far away, the funds would be lost to corruption, the problem is too big. We can always, and easily, explain away our lack of action, our lack of compassion. Yet it reveals a heart that has not yet been thawed by the love and mercy of God. A heart that has not yet been fully realigned to see God as the highest good, and wealth a means to do good with. Do we see God as the highest good, or rather a means to an end? Perhaps what we want from God isn’t God, but rather what God can get us, perhaps not escape from torment so much as the image of being respectable as we come to church, the soothing for our guilty consciences, the answers to our prayer requests, eternal life. Do we want God, or do we want what he can give us? Are we this man, are we like Mother Gothel? Because what God offers us isn’t merely forgiveness and mercy, it isn’t merely eternal life, and I use merely deliberately. What God offers us is his very self. He says ‘come to me’. in Song of Songs the writer says ‘my beloved is mine and I am his’. He doesn’t offer us stuff, he offers us himself. To be a Christian for the things we get is like getting married for the stuff we get. When I married Katy I gained her many many art supplies and she gained my Doctor Who box sets. But that’s not why we got married. I married her because I wanted her, the art supplies are great but they pale in comparison to her. That’s what faith is. In Jesus we gain God the Father as our Father, Jesus as our brother, the Spirit for our strengthening. Everything else is the icing on the cake. And do you know the wonderous thing about God. He’ll let us come to him solely for the benefits, he’ll let us come to him with these misplaced intentions. That can be our motivating factor, to avoid hell, to be part of a community, to get to live forever. That can be what gets us to him, he’ll accept us like that. But it can’t be where we stay, because what is on offer is those things yes, but ultimately him. If we don’t want him, those other things would pale in comparison to how miserable we would be. If we don’t want him, eternity won’t be wonderful, it would be like being in a loveless marriage with access to those paintbrushes you always wanted. When we come to God we gain much, not by right as the rich man assumed but as gift, but what we ultimately gain is God himself. Isn’t that wonderful, God could give us all those things in some cold, clinical way, but instead he gives us his very self. So let us be in this for him above all others, let us receive the gift of himself as the true gift. And having received him, all else becomes gifts to be spent on others. Having gained God and all that he gives us we can give freely not counting the cost for we know that we will continue to receive from him in abundance. With our sights set on eternity with our greatest love, all of this becomes the great prelude, a time to spend on others, to give our gifts away, for the greatest gift is yet to come. Amen.
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AuthorAn Anglican Curate in my 20's I was raised in an Anglican Church, went to a Youth Club run by an Evangelical Church, attended a Baptist Church while at Uni and was a member of a New Monastic Community after graduating. As such my faith has been influenced by these experiences and traditions into what I hope is a more rounded viewpoint. Archives
September 2022
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